lily-inmyhead

[lily-inmyhead]

<Kinda continuation of: prev>

——

Dick: Have you ever doubted that I love you?

Bruce: …

——

It wasn’t a fight. At least it didn’t really feel like all those usual fights, and Bruce was pretty sure it wasn’t a fight. But then again, he’s always been wrong in guessing about his children.

Dick seems… distant. Distant but still close. Usually when Dick wants to be distant, he leaves. His children are very good at leaving and not telling him where they are. He always knows, though, he’s Batman.

Bruce doesn’t remember any scathing words being exchanged between them. No heated glares, heavy air, stilted conversations. Nothing that usually promises an argument is to come or has passed without Bruce realizing it.

But for some reason, Dick was still lingering around the hallways. If Bruce turned around, he would see his eldest child standing around the edges, his body tense, and a perturbed expression on his face. Just watching him, waiting for a moment that Bruce was honestly scared to come.

It was starting to worry Bruce. His baby has always been a bright and shining star, even when he doesn’t want to be.

But Bruce also knew that if he tried to pry, he would only push Dick away. After many years of trail and errors, Bruce decided the best course of action would be to let Dick figure it out himself or come to Bruce on his own.

Strangely enough, it didn’t take very long for Dick to come into his study, his face trying and failing to adopt a calm and nonchalant expression as he sat in the edge of his desk.

“Hey B…” Dick said lowly, fiddling with one of the snow globes he had on his desk. Bruce had gotten that specific one from Dick when they first visited Zitka at the zoo when he was nine and Dick had begged to get something from the gift shop.

“Dick.” Bruce nodded, setting down his pen and giving his son his full attention.

Dick let out a shuddering sigh and set down the snow globe. Bruce’s hands twitched with the urge to fix it and set it straight, but then Dick turned the globe and moved it to the exact position that he liked.

Bruce couldn’t help the small twitch of his lips. He was probably being too obvious, Dick most likely remembers the several panic attacks he had when Dick was a child, unable to process and handle when his prized possessions were askew. He worked on it. He's fine now.

“I heard something pretty interesting… from Jay.” Dick started haltingly, his eyes staring deeply into Bruce’s. “You guys had a pretty… deep convo recently… right?”

Bruce felt stupid. A deep conversation? He’s assuming that Dick means an emotionally charged conversation but he truly doesn’t remember anything like that happening recently.

“Okay, okay, I can see you racking your brain, so I’ll just tell you,” Dick said, grabbing his Dad’s hands and holding them in his own. Bruce hadn’t even noticed when he started digging his fingernails into the flesh of his arm, close to drawing blood.

Shit. He always fucking does this. Making Dick worry and take care of him like he was an invalid incompetent manchild.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Dick murmured causing Bruce to purse his lips together silently. “Seriously, it’s okay B. I know why you are the way you are. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Bruce nodded silently because it was easier to do so than argue why he should’ve already grown out of his childish habits. You’d think having the media point out his self inflected scars when he was 12 would’ve kicked him out of the habit already…

“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about? I don’t remember any particularly deep conversation with Jason.” Bruce rumbled, tilting his head to the side when Dick’s nose scrunched in annoyance.

“Of course you don’t, just like Jay said…” Dick huffed under his breath. “Okay, let’s just… blurt it out. Get it over with.”

Dick seemed to try and hype himself up, squeezing Bruce’s hands tightly before releasing and continuing the action a few more times.

“Jason said that you think that we hate you, but like, I really don’t know where that came from, and I’m just super confused because I don’t think I’ve said it that often, and yeah I’ve said it, I probably shouldn’t have, really shouldn’t have since you think that I hate you, well you think that all of us-“

“Chum.” Bruce stopped his son’s rapid word vomit with one word, his eyes crinkled with fondness and amusement as he squeezed Dick’s hands back. “Sweetheart, I didn’t understand a single word you just said. Slow down for me, okay?”

Dick took large gulps of air, his face burning with embarrassment as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Right! Right duh, I just- ugh…”

Bruce absentmindedly trailed his eyes over Dick’s face, so much older than when he had last seen him. Maybe a little gaunt… he’ll make Dick some brownies, the ones he used to make when Dick was smaller. Maybe they could watch a movie later, anything that would get DIck to fall asleep.

“Dad…” Dick breathed softy, making Bruce’s heart race. Uh oh, why was this a Dad moment? Did Dick want something?

“Jason came to me and he told me that… you think that I… we hate you. Do you?”

Bruce let out a confused hum. Was that the important conversation he had? Bruce didn’t feel like it was an important conversation; it had been mostly resolved by the time Jason decided to leave. Well, Bruce felt as though it had been resolved.

“… you said it,” Bruce said slowly. The last time he said that, Jason had gone silent and stared at Bruce with a horrified expression before hugging him. It was a nice hug, so Bruce guessed he had read his second son’s expression wrong, and it was all okay in the end.

“No, B, I could… I could never…” Dick’s throat dried up. Why couldn’t he just force the full sentence out? 'No, I don't hate you.' Why does his tongue feel like it's a million pounds? Why do his lips refuse to move?

Bruce hummed sympathetically and nodded his head, like he understood, like he could sort through the mess in Dick’s mind. Bruce had always had an uncanny way of peering into all of their minds when it was the most jumbled, and yet, he was getting it completely wrong this time.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. It makes perfect sense.” Bruce nodded, having the fucking audacity to pretend that it did make sense. Like Dick hating him was perfectly normal, like living in a house and caring for people who he thinks hate him is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Wha-? No, Bruce, it’s not supposed to make sense!” Dick ran a hand through his hair, carelessly ripping through the knots and tangles, barely feeling the pain radiating from his scalp. The one in his chest hurt a fuckton more.

Bruce chewed on his lower lip, unable to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand, he settled for digging the heel of his foot against the dorsum of his other, still bruised painfully from a rough night of crime fighting alone.

“What did I do wrong this time?” Bruce asked, wanting to know why Dick was here and why he seemed so… distraught. Not even angry, which was somehow worse.

He had to have done something wrong, after all, both DIck and Jason had come to him separately to rehash this same old conversation. Something must have happened.

That, for some reason, seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

“Dad, you know we love you… right…?” Dick whispered quietly. “You know that I love you, right?” Dick tried to grin, hoping that he would see his father’s face transform into a smile, to hear his deep chuckle of amusement, to listen to his Dad say ‘yes, of course I know that you love me, that you all love me.’

But it never came.

Bruce was quiet. No he was completely silent, staring at his son with a truly baffled expression that Dick has only seen very few times in his life. Like the words coming out of his son’s mouth were such an obvious lie, and he was trying to figure out why he was lying right to his face. Like Dick's love was such an unreachable object for him that there was no way he could already have it.

No no no no no no-

“Dad-!” Dick choked on a sudden sob, forcefully tearing its way out of his throat without his permission. “Please! Tati please! You have to know that I love you!”

Bruce swallowed and slowly extracted his hands from Dick’s grip, well, he tried to. Dick held on tight, steadfastly refusing to let go. “Dick, sweetheart, let me get you a cup of water. I don’t know why you’re crying, but I promise we can figure it out together. I’ll be right back, I swear.” Bruce said, his voice giving away how stressed he was in this situation.

Dick desperately clawed at his Dad’s hands, trying to stop him from leaving, but somehow Bruce escaped his hold. He always escapes his grasp.

As Bruce quickly fled the room, Dick slid down off Bruce’s desk and onto the floor, curling up into hisself. Trying to hide away from the shame and horror that was threatening to explode from his body.

How could this have happened? When had he stopped telling his Dad that he loved him? When had Bruce stopped believing him?

Dick tugged harshly on his hair and wailed, waiting for Bruce to come back.

[lily-inmyhead]

Bruce doesn’t know why Jason is mad at him. At this point, it seems to be an everyday thing.

Jason successfully integrates his way back into the family, making it possible for him to hang out with his brothers without being coerced by anyone. He comes and goes as he pleases and struts around the manor like it’s his home again.

Bruce couldn’t be happier.

So why is his second/third oldest mad at him? It seems like nowadays Jason gets mad at Bruce for breathing the wrong way, or walking too slow, or something completely nonsensical.

It all comes to a head when Jason confronts him in his office when Bruce was just finishing up some paperwork.

“What the fuck is your actual fucking problem?” Jason hissed angrily, slamming his fist down on Bruce’s mahogany table.

Bruce distantly hopes that it won’t leave a mark, but for now, he’s more focused on why his son is swearing at him.

“Hello Jason.” Bruce decides to start, giving him a second to collect his thoughts and mentally see if he’s done anything lately. “I’m afraid I don’t understand-“

“Bullshit! Absolute fucking bullshit!” Jason spat, cutting Bruce off.

Bruce’s eyebrows wrinkled slightly at the many curses directed at him. It’s not like he wasn’t used to it; Gotham is his home, but he just doesn’t know why.

“When was the last time you fucking talked to me?” Jason questioned, rounding the desk and jabbing a finger in Bruce’s shoulder.

This causes Bruce to blink, somehow even more confused than before. “I don’t understand. I’m talking to you right now. And we spoke yesterday.”

“No, you walked into the room looking for Golden Boy, saw me and said some fake ass greeting before turning and basically running away!” Jason swung his hands around, making Bruce lean back in his chair to avoid getting hit. “Why are you avoiding me? I thought… I thought you had forgiven me and stuff…”

“What? Of course I have! You’re always welcome here!”

“Then why are you avoiding me? You don’t invite me places, y-you barely speak to me nowadays…”

Bruce picked at the peeling arm of his swivel chair, peeling off a small portion of the black paint and ripping it into smaller pieces before dropping it on the ground. Alfred would probably make him clean it up. “I’m giving you space.”

Jason blinked, looking down at Bruce in confusion. “Space? Why are you giving me space- so much space? You're never fucking around anymore!”

“Well… because you hate me?”

“What..?”

“You told me…” Bruce says slowly, barely stopping himself from scratching at his arm in the tense silence, a habit Alfred made sure he broke. “You’ve told me multiple times how you hate me… and that I’m not your Dad.”

Jason gaped at Bruce, taking a moment to sit on the edge of Bruce’s desk, running a hand down his face. “Fuck Bruce! I-I wasn’t- ugh! I wasn’t being fucking serious!”

Bruce squints, his eyes darting around Jason's angry and confused expression.

“But… you said it? Why would you say that if you didn’t mean it?” Bruce asked quietly, his chest tightening like it does when he wants to cry.

He hasn’t felt this way in a long time. At least, not so strongly. The kind of feeling that you get when you know everyone around you understands something that you can’t. Why would Jason say something he didn’t mean?

Why did Bruce have to be so fucking stupid. He's supposed to be the world's greatest detective, so why does he always have a hard time deciphering what people mean? Especially his children.

“I don’t understand,” Bruce repeated, his eyes stinging as he flapped his hands before drumming them softly on the arm of his swivel chair, trying to calm himself down. “You’ve said it. You say it all the time.”

“Bruce-“

“All of you say it! You say that you hate me, so you hate me!” Bruce insisted, no longer looking at Jason, the study felt significantly smaller now. “Why would you say it if you don’t mean it? Why would you say something so mean?”

“… Dad…” Jason whispered softly, slowly taking Bruce’s hands in his own. Bruce hadn’t even noticed that his fingernails were painfully digging into the palm of his hand, leaving angry red half moons.

“Dad, if you think that we hate you, then why…?” Jason gestures widely, pointing at nothing in particular yet everything at the same time. “Why do you do this for us? Why are you still here?”

Bruce tilted his head in confusion. Not a single second of this conversation has made any sense to him but he knows this part, it is woven into the very fabric of his being. “Because I love you. I love all of you.”

[lily-inmyhead]

Jayroy but its Roy figuring out Jason is hiding an injury because he got a little off from his sleep pattern

I feel like JayRoy is one of those couples that like . . . they’ve gotta be reading each others’ minds. Theres no way they can just be looking at each other and KNOWING this shit, but they DO.

roy: *walking in, swagger in his step and smile on his face* Jason: *narrows eyes* what happened? What’s wrong? Roy: how could you POSSIBLY KNOW a bird shit on me??? HOW. I CLEANED IT OFF.

Lian: *walks through the room, entirely silent, focused on something and very suspicious* Jason and Roy: *exchange a long glance* Tim: Jason: *sighs* fine. *leaves* Tim: ??? Roy: I told him it was his turn. He said he did the dishes last night. I said he’d be doing them again if he didn’t deal with it. Tim: YOU LOOKED AT EACH OTHER FOR TWO SECONDS Roy: what can I say

so.

Jason: *falls onto bed* I’m so tired Roy: *narrows eyes* you’re . . . It’s nine o’clock. Jason: yeah? I’m tired. Roy: your bedtime is two am. Specifically after watching an episode of either Supernatural or Pride and Prejudice, one cup of coffee, a writing sprint for that fic you’re working on, and reading a few chapters of a book. So. I’m only going to say this once. Who are you, what have you done with Jason, did he pay you to do this, or what the fuck happened. Jason: Jason: I’m just tired, babe. Roy: *eyes wide* oh my god you’re dying. What am I going to tell our daughter??? Jason: . . . I may have gotten a little hurt on patrol last— Roy: OH MY GOD YOU ARE DYING. IM CALLING DICK—

[lily-inmyhead]

Jason and Tim get into a brotherly spat that turns physical and ends in them accidentally breaking the batsignal. not wanting to be chastised for fighting so recklessly, they decide the best option is to break a rogue out of Arkham specifically so they can use him as a patsy.

Reporter: witnesses say that as he was being dragged back to his cell heavily beaten from his tussle with Batman and Robin, the Condiment King was wailing loudly about how the Red Hood and Red Robin had been the master minds of this operation; kidnapping him from his cell and dropping him on a random roof before locking the emergency exit and abandoning him with no way down. he is currently waiting on a drug test to see if hallucinagenics could be contributing to his delusions.

Bruce, turning away from the TV to stare at Jason and Tim: anything to say?

Jason:

Tim:

Jason: clearly you hit him too hard.

Tim: yeah that’s insane. maybe ease up a little next time, B.

Jason: and you got pissed at me for ALLEGEDLY pushing a guy off a balcony? you just gave poor Mr Mayo brain damage!

Tim: honestly you’re a disgrace right now.

Jason: i hope you feel bad.

Bruce:

[lily-inmyhead]

Just started reading Sherlock Holmes and all the adaptations are wrong. This man is a delight. He gets excited about hemoglobin and is ecstatic at the thought of Watson as a roommate. He purposefully forgets how the solar system works so he has more room in his brain for crime. He shows Watson the dirt stains on his trousers and he can tell what part of London they come from based on color and consistency. (As far as i can tell Watson didn't ask, Sherlock just gets back from walks and tells Watson about the stains unprompted.) The text specifically says "Holmes was certainly not a difficult man to live with." Why does every adaptation make him unpleasant and rude, he's literally just eccentric. He's such a goober, I love him.

[lily-inmyhead]

it took me like a full minute to realise that this was a post that was blocked with my own tumblr filters and not that “this post may contain reddit and american” was the funny post I was like wtf why can’t I reblog this

[lily-inmyhead]

Ain’t no way I’m seeing people forget about Peeta. “All 3 victors have a bird representing them” “all district 12 victors weren’t reaped fairly” “did you know that all 3 of the victors from 12 actually cheated in the games” “it’s so cool that all the victors are from the Seam or are Covey”. Like omg what about Peeta?!?! Mans did not almost die like 10 times just to be tossed to the side!! He won the 74th games alongside Katniss, she wasn’t the only one who won it!! Just please put some respect on his name

[lily-inmyhead]

People loooove complex characters until they’re women

[lily-inmyhead]

based on this tweet

[lily-inmyhead]

people need to realise that a poor little meow meow must be a character who has committed atrocities you cannot poor little meow meow a good guy that’s not how this works

[lily-inmyhead]

[lily-inmyhead]

since everyone is talking about the difference between katniss' and haymitch's narrations, i find it funny how in sotr everyone is vaguely described and in og trilogy we know how most of the characters look and i know it's coincidental but it's like this:

haymitch describing a character: she has two sisters two brothers, her parents married each other on one spring day, one of them is gay, she's a lesbian and broke up with her girlfriend over jealousy

katniss describing a character: idk man he has.... brown hair

[lily-inmyhead]

mister youngest child peeta mellark being in a team consisting of badly adjusted eldest children™ is bad enough situation hunger games aside

[lily-inmyhead]

lmao what if

tim: hey bruce i need to tell you something

bruce, already having a migraine: ...yes?

tim, fucking vibrating out of nervousness: dad i'm gay

bruce, face going completely blank:

tim, already making a plan to establish a vigilante identity separated from the bats and to move to costa rica:

bruce, inhaling rapidly with tears in his eyes: hello gay, i'm dad.

[lily-inmyhead]

Tim: I was awake at 2 am last night and-

Dick: patrolling?

Tim: no, in bed, anyways-

Jason: do you need a new mattress or something? That seems like a bad time to be up

Tim: no?? As I was saying, do we get.. like.. a pension?

Dick: uh? I do I’m a police officer?

Tim: no, for being Robin?

Damian: Drake, don’t be ridiculous.

Tim: don’t get me wrong, Bruce did support us when we were all minors but… what about retirement??

Jason: …holy shit

Damian: father probably has money put away

Dick: I mean…

*Alfred walking in*

Alfred: What is this about retirement?

Tim: ARE WE GOING TO GET ANY FORM OF PENSION??

Alfred: master Timothy, you are one of the least likely to need to worry about that

Jason: WHAT ABOUT ME??

Alfred:

Alfred: Im sure Master Bruce has money put aside for university that… none of you have used

Damian: I could use mine

Alfred: Al Ghul, you are a money tree

*Bruce walks in*

Bruce: Whats happening in here?

Dick: Do we get pension? Or anything for being Robin?

Bruce: uh.

Bruce: Maybe, I put stuff aside for you and Jason, but after you inherited your families money, and Jason died… oh

Jason: …

Bruce: I’ll… start investing

Tim: great things happen at 2 am

[lily-inmyhead]

*Dick crashes out while on patrol and beats someone within an inch of their life*

Bruce: Dick might be a little bit fragile after last night, so let’s try to be sensitive.

Jason: Oh, believe me- I am going to be nothing but nice to Dick from now on. If he snaps and goes on a rampage, who do you think he’s coming for first?

Bruce: He’s not going on a rampage.

Tim: I bet he’d let me live. He likes me.

Damian: I’m just gonna say it. I never trusted him.

[lily-inmyhead]

Dick remembered a word to say when people are yelling!! man, I wonder where he learned that...

He does get very upset when he learns it's bad to say,, Bruce isn't mad of course he thinks it's hilarious